


No Breadcrumb Trail to Follow

by pearl_o



Series: A Smile Rising [4]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, Airplanes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Cemetery, Emails, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-11
Updated: 2012-05-11
Packaged: 2017-11-05 03:51:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/402148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearl_o/pseuds/pearl_o
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik goes on a business trip and keeps in touch from an ocean away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Breadcrumb Trail to Follow

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "Communication" challenge at fan_flashworks.
> 
> This story works much better if you've already read the previous stories in the series.

Erik has already boarded the airplane, found his seat and started to make himself comfortable when he hears the faint ding of his phone, alerting him to a new message. The first thing he did was discard his coat, lying in on the empty seat beside him, so he has to search through the pockets to find it again. 

One new text - from Charles, of course; Erik doesn't text, and Charles is the only one who bothers to send them to him, even knowing he won't get a response back.

The text says _I miss you already. xo_

Erik's lips curl up. It hasn't been two hours since he left the house for the airport.

He turns off the phone and packs it back away before the flight attendent can come to remind him that they're getting ready for take-off. He has a book of crossword puzzles out to pass the time, but he doesn't open it quite yet. He stares out his window and thinks instead of Charles as he left him, still asleep in their bed, his sprawl of content warmth.

They've been living together for almost a year. This is the first night they'll be spending apart.

Five days, Erik thinks. It's not a very long time at all.

* * *

Charles,

You made me promise to let you know that I got in safely, and so here it is. The plane ride was fine, the airport was fine, and I am safe and sound in my hotel room. All your worries were for nothing.

I tried calling your phone, but there was no answer. Are you busy, out with your friends, or did you just forget to plug it into your charger again, I wonder? I'll try again tomorrow, I suppose.

I hope you're well. I love you.

Erik

* * *

Charles leaves a voicemail while Erik is in one of the conference presentations. He listens to it while he eats lunch, one of the indifferent free sandwiches and fruit provided, sitting alone in a far corner. Charles's voice sounds bright and sure, even through the vague tinniness of the phone line. 

Charles says _I miss you_ and _I can't wait for you to come home_ and _the bed is too big without you, I sleep on your pillow because it still smells like you_. He tells Erik about how he's registering for classes for the fall and how Raven is teaching him to bake a cake. 

Once the message ends, Erik listens to it straight through two more times.

* * *

Charles,

I know it's still evening at home, but it's past midnight in Germany, so I feel justified in wishing you a happy birthday. I'm so sorry I'm not there for it. I promise I'll make it up to you.

I love you.

Erik

* * *

Charles replies to that email with several suggestions of exactly _how_ Erik can make it up to him when he gets home. Each idea is filthier than the last. Erik gets aroused reading it, of course, but he doesn't touch himself until after he reaches the postscript, where Charles has added: _Yes, you dolt, this letter is meant as a masturbatory aid. Use it in the spirit that I wrote it. Think about me here, touching myself and thinking about these same things._

Erik strokes himself quickly and roughly, rereading the email, imagining each line out loud in Charles's ridiculous buttery voice. The way his round mouth should shape each dirty word, like he was enjoying the feel of it on his tongue, like he was tasting it and savoring it the way he would Erik's cock.

* * *

The day after the conference ends, he goes to visit his parents' grave. It's a half day's journey on the train. He watches out the window as the landscape slowly becomes more and more familiar, until they finally reach the city he grew up in. He's been in this train station a thousand times. On the way to the cemetery he passes by his former school, the house he lived in with his parents, as well as cross streets that lead to their synagogue, one of his foster homes, the apartment he shared with Magda, all just barely out of sight.

It's summer, and the sun is shining. Everything is green and lush. The caretakers at the cemetery do a good job. He bought a bouquet of flowers on his way here, and he lays it down on the grave, feeling a little foolish while he does so. It's been over a dozen years since he visited. If he believed in God, if he believed his parents' spirits could still hear him, maybe he would talk aloud to them. He could apologize for how long it's been, tell them how much he misses them, tell them about Charles and all the other unexpected ways his life has turned out.

But he doesn't believe in any of that, really, and he stopped talking to them when he was seventeen. Those first five years without them were enough to teach him that the dead don't answer back, and that calling to them doesn't change a thing.

He stands before their grave for a long time in silence, instead, under the cool shade of a neighboring tree, and thinks about all the good things he remembers about them.

Afterwards he takes the train back. Once he's at his hotel again, he can't sleep, not even the pittance he usually manages. Instead he repacks his suitcase twice, doublechecking every item. He watches insipid movies on hotel cable until dawn and checks his email every five minutes to see if there is anything new from Charles.

Finally, at seven a.m., he leaves for the airport to catch his flight home.

* * *

He doesn't call Charles as soon as he's landed, or once he's off the plane, or even from baggage claim. He waits until he's found the car again in the parking structure and put away his things in the trunk, until he's seated in the driver's seat, ready to leave.

Charles answers on the first ring, sounding breathless. "Hello?"

"I'm at the airport now," Erik says, resting his head back against his seat.

" _Finally_ ," Charles says. "Another day and I was going to buy a cat to replace you. Come home immediately."

"You and your orders."

"Oh, fine. _Please_ come home immediately," Charles replies impatiently.

Erik chuckles. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

"All right," says Charles. "I'll see you soon, my dear."

"See you soon," Erik echoes. He ends the call, sets his cell phone down on the passenger seat, and starts the engine.


End file.
